Chapter 10

Seroin hurried along the main streets to the southern Sagvi district, trying not to run or look rushed. She was still squinting against the sun when the gigantic column tower cast a shadow over her face. The wall in front of her rose impressively into the air, daring to touch the lowest clouds. But the sight of it gave the young woman a certain spurt.

Seroin snaked past merchants, loitering people and grumbling old men, who were playing long-forgotten card games on crates. Most of the people here knew her and respectfully avoided her. The hustle and bustle of Badazan was familiar territory for her.

Screams, brawls and the ever-shimmering illusions of the Zweimeer, Ringa and Sandevi clans in the sky hardly distracted her anymore, and after a last turn, Seroin stood at the foot of a tall columned tower. The ground floor was filled with small shops, many for food and drink, some for skin or health care, others for clothing.

Seroin did not enter any of these shops; instead, she walked through a large gateway into the walls. After walking through a dark tunnel, she stood in the courtyard of the columned tower.

The tall walls had a hollow core. You could see endlessly from the bottom to the top, up to the round hole in the roof, which just allowed a hint of sun and a small glimpse of the eternal blue. All the column towers had this empty interior, partly to distribute fresh air over all the floors, partly to simply throw garbage down here. On each floor, small lines with laundry were stretched. An old orc couple stood at a railing halfway up the tower, chatting away, their voices echoing down to Seroin. Here, too, children were playing around, and one could see enough inhabitants of the tower peering down from the railing of their floor.

Seroin paused for a moment to enjoy the coolness. Badazan could build up a certain heat in the blazing sun, but the inside of the towers always stored a pleasant breeze. The fact that the floor was partly covered with rubbish that was already starting to smell only gave the wind here a familiar flavour.

Finally, Seroin whistled and immediately she saw a face looking down at her from high up in the tower. A little later, she heard a creaking sound, then a Platti lowered itself down to her at the edge of the courtyard wall. With a dull thud, the vehicle landed in the designated holder on the ground floor, crushing a bit of rubbish in the process.

The orc Roscha smiled at her, a small file in his hand. ‘No, good old Seroin again. So soon? Is your new companion dead already?’ The orc bodyguard stepped off the platform, smoothed his fine robe and examined her from head to toe. ‘If you're here for his restaurant, we don't open until sunset.’

Seroin gave a forced grin and simply walked past the orc. ‘Take me up. I need to talk to him. It's urgent.’

Roscha put away his nail file, stroked his smooth skin with his broad fingers and finally tinkered with his tusks in his lower jaw. With his freshly oiled, green-brown skin and his combed black hair, he could almost pass as a member of the Ringa family. ‘You're supposed to ask for him and not just barge in, you know that, Seroin.’

‘And I know that the next time I order a good soup from Grandma Gomscha, I'll make sure that every guest at the Steaming Dachshund knows what a disappointment you are to your own family. Especially that you get hold of the Hopas' tailoring instead of helping Gomscha with her oh-so-beloved shop.’ The young woman gave him a look that was half playful, half serious.

Her words bore fruit, the orc stepped silently to the platform with her, to the small stone table. He raised his hand over it and bent his fingers. Instantly, the platform rose. In a few moments, they shot past countless floors, seeing only a brief glimmer of each alien life behind them, everything blurred into a mixed dirty colour. Finally, the platform came to a halt.

Seroin stepped down, stood in a wide corridor around the hollow core of the tower, as every floor had. She glanced briefly into the unnatural depth. She quickly hurried to a wide double door with black velvet. The remaining corners of the tower were dirty or completely littered, but this part looked as if it had been magically cleaned. Immediately you smelled a hint of exotic spices and flowers, even the floor in front of the door looked finer.

Seroin was about to open the clean door when Roscha hissed. ‘Just walk in? You've never done that before. Do you think Shiver Lips will forgive you? He was already angry enough the other day about the wine mixing.’

Seroin turned to Roscha slowly, her look cool. ‘Was he? Angry? And how did you find out, my dear Roscha? Through whispers and hisses? In his own restaurant?’

Roscha grinned. ’You learn a lot from being close to him, especially when to demand respect gently and when to demand it harshly.’

‘I don't have time for these games, Lips. There is more at stake than you know! And my patience has its limits too!’

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‘You have limits?’ With only a soft hiss, one side of the double doors, clad in black velvet, opened and an older person with a long braid peered out. ‘What I actually appreciate about you is that you have no limits, no job is too small or too reprehensible for you.’ With a grumble, the older person transformed into Seroin's likeness. ’Roscha. Please help the kitchen staff inside. The familiar argument is flaring up again, and only your bulging muscles and steely voice can put it out.’

The orc scurried inside with a nod, while the fake Seroin stepped out and slowly stood next to the real one. The image swirled again and the old human with a braid reappeared. ‘One skin per meeting, I promise.’ Trembling Lips leaned on the railing of the walkway and stared into the interior of his tower as well.

‘Thank you. I know you don't like spontaneity. Or seeing me too often. But it's urgent, very.’ Seroin walked over to him, and now both stared down at the tower like an old couple in league who no longer knew what to do with themselves.

‘So talk, please. I still have time.’

‘The elf. He's been marked. People from the Ibis gang knew him, and apparently the Young Harvest too. And the woman we're looking for? High nobility from the inland wants to find her too, and have come to Badazan for that reason alone. There are already too many eyes on everything!’

‘You did that? The Ibis slaughter right next to my Aderlass? Nice work, I heard the G.M.E.s burned them all away there. Competition reduced. And Liku was able to help you with the picture and everything?’

‘As always. I even went straight to Dala. But she didn't know the woman or the necklace.’

‘Mrs Mesmoli? How is your old bed acquaintance? Can her services still be trusted?’ Shiverlip only looked over at Seroin briefly, but the look was laden with a heavy accusation.

‘You can. She wants to be found, to do her work in peace. But if you look for her, you'll find her. And yes, just mentioning your name helped me.’

‘Good. Very good. Lately, many in my ranks have been dancing around a bit on their own. My sphere of influence is no longer respected unchallenged. That's why I'm grateful that you took such good care of the Ibis in my area.’

‘You'd better give me some answers. Lady Olva of the Wooden Surf. She's looking for the woman, maybe for the black steel, too. You knew that, didn't you? Is that why your people are so keen on her farm?’

Shiverlips spat down from the railing. ‘And you didn't really think it would be an easy job, did you? I'm not threatening you, I'm pointing it out. Whoever wants this steel is also putting pressure on me. We have to deliver. High risk, but Seroin, the A.M.I.s? The reward seems to grow with each passing day. I'll gladly raise your payment: almost 2,000 A.M.I.s for the amulet. Isn't that worth a lot? Who wouldn't want to stick their neck out and grab fate by the scruff?’

‘Nobility and growth. He should know more than anyone would like him to. Shiverlips, I was thrown into the dark at the beginning, I'll soon reach the limits of my abilities.’

‘Your limits?’ The man chuckled and waved forgivingly. ’Where is the elf now?’

‘I left him in a tavern. He's eager to track down this Lady Olva tomorrow. That alone will take some time.’

‘She's in a courtyard in the Willowquarter, the Yellowbrick Estate, a nice place. Apparently with her court and most of her children. I had hoped to handle everything a bit more delicately, but oh well. Perhaps the elf is an more important part of it now. But that the young harvest is now also involved...

‘The woman. That sister. You said it was none of my concern...’

‘You're right, Seroin. A fire consumes fresh wood. A war claims young soldiers. And Badazan, Badazan reaps naive growth. The woman is useless, unfortunately. A mistake on my part. My eyes often and gladly rest on the fresh meat in the growth authority. You can always find something good to exploit there, be it as a tool or as livestock. This woman. I only learned too late of her significance. Now she can no longer be questioned. But the dark metal chain is still here in the city, in Badazan, I am sure. But where, that remains to be clarified.’

Seroin rummaged around in her bag and rubbed her kind of numbing powder on her lips. ‘She's dead?’

Shiverlips shrugged. ‘As far as you're concerned, why not, yes, she's dead. Which doesn't concern our elf, right? I don't care about his quest. The steel is important, then you can do with him as you please. If the Harvest wants him, trade him in.’

The young woman shuddered briefly. ’If you allow me, Dala suggested the same.’

‘She hears many things, good Dala. Tell me, if someone else has already offered you more, enough to betray me, would you tell me? Or should I find out on my own? Haunt you?’

Seroin chuckled softly. ‘I thought if you were going to kill someone, you would do it openly and not with a dagger swung by a random nobody! No, Shiverlips, I'm not planning anything like that. I just don't want to get my neck in a million nooses. Your stranglehold is enough for me.’

They shared a tense smile, then Shiverlips strolled back to the double doors of his restaurant, shaking his head. ‘I'll have you looked for when I find more important information about the steel. Keeping you in the dark is becoming less and less worthwhile. Lady Olva of the Wooden Surf has a meeting with some district leaders of the city council tomorrow at noon. But if these leaders' Plattis happen to fail and the fine gentlemen are too tired to walk to the Willow-Quarter, you have a window of opportunity, understood? Undisturbed and all to yourself.’

Seroin nodded. ‘I'll come back to you when I have really important news. Otherwise, I'll try my luck.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘Which brings me to Marz, the dwarf healer in Ieswibe-quarter. He's still under your protection?’

Shiverips paused curiously.

‘He taps A.M.I.s. And he does so a lot and without the city's permission. I assume also without your knowledge. I hereby report this and expect a reward soon.’

The crook grinned. ‘Without my permission, right. And without paying tribute to me. Maybe I've lost him to the Young Harvest. Or maybe he's just greedy. Whatever. For this you shall receive A.M.I.s. Good work, Inspector.’ With a soft hiss, the double doors closed and the man's diabolical grin disappeared into the darkness.

Seroin now looked up, through the distant open roof out onto the bright blue sky. Slowly, her hand sought a familiar place on her chest and the young woman tried to feel it, the regret of betrayal. Instead, she felt a heart that rarely beat more quietly.